Painting
by Doubleblade Miriko
Summary: Paintings can be done with many different materials. Pencils, watercolours and paint. And to many different materials. Paper, wood and glass. But the most talented artists use blood as a paint and human body as their canvas. No pairings of any kind.


**Painting**

**Disclaimer: Yadda, yadda, yadda. You can say what you want, but I don't own a thing of this, except my twisted mind that came up with this.**

**Warnings: Torture, blood, Russia. Yes, Russia diserves his own warning. If you get disturbed by this, remember that I warned you, you can turn back now if you want.  
**

A scream.

"Now, now. Didn't I tell you that trying to hold those screams back is much harder than letting them out? I'm not bothered by them, I'm sure you know that, da."

Dripping sound, like something liquid had splashed to the cracked stone floor. A whimper, though the one making it tried to suppress it. Gleeful laugh, brimming with insanity, echoed through the cell.

"What was that? You're _whimpering_? Oh, how the mighty have fallen and their mind cracked in front of the all powerful pain. Beautiful thing, isn't it, da?

The one whimpering was chained to the wall from his wrists, so that those were holding his whole weight, making muscles cramp from the strain. His torso was bare and littered with cuts, bruises and burns, making it look like a some kind of a painting, painting painted by insanity and sadistic love for hurting.

He had short, dark brown hair and olive green eyes, which were half open as he was falling in and out from unconsciousness, that blissful, cool blackness that would take all the pain away. But the man standing in front of the chained one wouldn't allow that. Where would be the fun in that?

"Come on Spain! Don't fall asleep already! We've got lot of things to do before you can rest..." The nation named Spain flinched from fear and with that brought a satisfied smile to the other man's lips. Little Spain had broken so beautifully, he had screamed, cursed and cried for somebody to save him, but none came. The Russian took care of that.

"What should we do next... Ah! I think you haven't seen this now have you, da?"

Violet eyed man took a slim, beautifully crafted knife from the table and looked as it reflected his sadistically smiling face and the tear stricken, broken face of his torture toy. Ivan shuddered from pleasure. This was it. Absolute heaven, to know that you could do anything to the other human being and they couldn't do anything to it. To watch as they broke, how they begged for their miserable lives...

"I'm sure you can guess what this pretty little thing is going to do, da?" He said and the knife touched the bloodstained skin of Spain. Just a touch, light as a feather, made Spain recoil back and hit his back to the hard stone wall. Ivan's smile widened as he put force behind the knife and it broke the skin, making fresh blood drip to the floor.

Spain bit his lip so hard that it drew blood too, but the Russian wanted to hear the screams. So he raised to knife and let it break the skin from the spot where the collarbone was. The glinting blade, with the guiding of Ivan's experienced hand, had cut deeply and exposed the whole bone and the pure shade of scarlet that only the blood had.

Now the Spaniard screamed, ear shattering, echoing scream that spoke of agony beyond comprehension. Ivan felt his heart thump against his chest and his eyes roll to the back of his head as the pure _pleasure_ washed over him, making him slightly dizzy. Oh, Spain really knew how to scream, he could practically _taste_ the agony in that scream.

Brilliant white struck a strong contrast with the red shade of blood, as the now exposed collarbone stood out. Ivan couldn't help but to wander what would it look like to see it shatter under his grip and see the pure pain on Spain's face when the bone was crushed. Without hesitation he gripped the bone and started to tighten his hold slowly.

At first Spain didn't understand what was happening, but when the bone started to crack, he let out a howl of pain. Ivan only loved that and closed his whole fist and felt the bone shatter into pieces in his hand. He brought his red covered hand close to his face and the smell of blood hit him harder than ever and with that came blood lust.

Without even thinking he licked the Spain's blood from his hands, it's rich, metallic taste making him light-headed and his eyes wide and dreamy. It tasted so good...

Another whimper brought Ivan out from his bloody fantasy and got his attention back to the brown haired Spaniard. Boy looked like he was in a verge of death, eyes closed, breathing shallow and quick. Ivan liked this picture, truly a work of art, a human being reduced only to shambles of what he was supposed to be.

"Do you want to die, little Spain?"

"Sí, a-anything to take the pain away... Please." Spain begged. Wonders that simple pain could do to a proud human being.

"Âsnyj, little Spain." Ivan said and brought that same knife to Spain's throat. Cool metal felt almost comforting to Spain, because he knew that after this, there'll be no pain, no blood, or that insanity filled laughter that had haunted him for so long. Spain closed his eyes.

"Do svidánija, I had fun." With final bloodstained grin Ivan slit his victim's throat.

Blood dripped to the ground once more.

A/N:

Okay, why am I publishing new stuff? *Sees and amount of fics unfinished and dozen plot bunnies eating her mind* I think I felt like this, I needed to write something like this, just meaningless, relaxing torture. And half of the blame goes to my friend who happens to be Spain in your Hetalia group. (I'm Russia.) No I wasn't thinking her when I wrote this. *Grin* So Spain, when you read this, thank you, without you I wouldn't have written this at all. And this is my first APH fic, just for your information. Nothing more, I hope you liked it, review if you want, though I love reviews. Over and out!

Quick Russian-English translation:

Âsnyj=All right

Do svidánija=Good bye

Da=Yes


End file.
